


What Unites Us

by JeanneRiddle



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Fluff and Angst, get ready to feel very sad, hector's time in the land of the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanneRiddle/pseuds/JeanneRiddle
Summary: It had started with a dream, a dream that wasn't Héctor's; it was Ernesto's. And yet, Héctor wanted so badly to see his friend's dream come true that he left his family and set out to help him achieve it. But he wouldn't have if he knew that he would never come home again.It must've been something he ate, or something he drank...He woke up dead.





	What Unites Us

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little piece. I've been tossing the idea around all through October, and I figured what better day to upload this than Día de los Muertos? I promise that I'll be coming back strong with my other fics, and I apologize for taking to months to upload them. I had a very, very busy September and October. I'll probably do another part next year that focuses on Imelda so look forward to it!

It had started with a dream, a dream that wasn't Héctor's; it was Ernesto's. And yet, Héctor wanted so badly to see his friend's dream come true that he left his family and set out to help him achieve it. But he wouldn't have if he knew that he would never come home again.

It must've been something he ate, or something he drank...

He woke up dead.

It was like a nightmare. He didn't know where he was, but everywhere there were skeletons. He was in a panic, shaking and shuddering as dead faces tried to comfort him and soothe him. 

"It's alright, amigo. You're just dead." One said and his world came crashing down. Héctor fainted. 

He woke up. And he was fairly certain that it had been a dream. Even though he didn't recognize the room he was in, he was sure that it must've been a hotel room and maybe the reason Ernesto wasn't in was that he was taking a walk, as his friend always liked to do. He needed some air as well, he decided, getting up and reaching for the handle of the door.

It wasn't a dream, that's what his body told him, because he saw that his hands were not covered in their usual layers of flesh, but rather, just bone. Fear flooded him and he recalled what he had heard.

_It's alright, amigo. You're just dead._

Dead? But he had just wanted to go home... Tears fell down his cheekbones and he fell to his knees, cries and sobs racking his bones. He must've spent hours like that, on the floor of an unfamiliar room, crying his eyes out in remorse and self pity. 

_I just wanted to go home. Please, just let me see my wife and daughter again... Please._

Finally, Héctor had recovered enough of his composure to leave the room. He followed the hall, down the stairs and came to a desk where a skeleton was sitting, doing what appeared to be a crossword puzzle on a newspaper.

"Um... excuse me, can you tell me where I am, please?"

"You're in the Land of the Dead, amigo. You fainted upon arrival so I thought you might need a place to stay." Héctor nodded. "Do you have any family? I'm sure they would love to know that you're here."

"No... My grandparents are still alive... so are my parents. And I don't even know the names of my great grandparents..."

"That's alright. This place is for people who don't have any families to join in the Land of the Dead. It's a stepping stone, really. After your first Día de Muertos, you'll move on to something better, I'm sure."

"I don't understand."

"The Land of the Dead runs on memories as a sort of currency. Your family will put up your photo, leave you offerings, and the love you receive from the Land of the Living will fuel your success here."

"I see... So I have to wait until Día de Muertos to see my family?"

"Yeah, it's the only time we're allowed to crossover. It's mostly to prevent spirits from losing their ways and becoming corrupted. Our souls can only last so long in the Land of the Living before going crazy so to prevent that, spirits can only cross over on Día de los Muertos. You've heard of ghosts, right? That's what happens when a spirit is lost."

"This... it's a lot to take in."

"I'll let you get settled in, or explore, whatever you need to do." 

* * *

Día de Muertos was finally here. Héctor was bouncing nervously from foot to foot as he waited in line for the scanner. Finally, he'd get to see Coco and Imelda. He could hardly wait. Finally, it was his turn. He gave a nervous smile and then a buzzer went off and the person running the scanner looked sympathetically at him.

"I'm sorry, friend. No one put up your photo so you're going to have to stay here. Maybe next year."  Sadness tugged at the heartstrings he no longer had and he made his way back to the place he was staying. He sat on the porch and a relatively new arrival sat down next to him with a plate and some food. 

"Want some?" 

"What is it?"

"Offerings from my family. I didn't stay long, because it kind of bums me out that I can't talk to anyone, but I appreciate the food they left me. Chorizo. I'd offer you some pan dulce but I love it too much."

_Must've been that chorizo, my friend._

"I think I'll pass. Pretty sure chorizo killed me..." the man next to him snorted, covering his mouth and trying to hide his laughs.

"You choked on some chorizo?" He asked with amusement in his eyes. Héctor would've blushed if he had any cheeks, but instead he shook his head and playfully pushed the man next to him.

"No. It was food poisoning." he clarified.

"That's just sad." 

"Tell me about it."

"So where's your offerings?"

"Well... my family didn't put up my photo so I think they're still waiting for me to come home... I died on the road. I'm sure next year, I'll be able to cross over." The statement didn't make him feel any better, but it was the only thing that made sense. Imelda was waiting, in vain for him to return home to her and Coco. By next Día de Muertos, he was sure she'd realize that he was gone. After all, it had only been a few months since he died. Once it had been too long since his last letter to Coco, they'd have to realize what had happened to him.

* * *

No luck. Five Días de los Muertos had passed and he had not been able to cross over. It made no sense. Out of the two of them, he was the optimist, not Imelda. Why hadn't she put up his photo? Coco was going to turn eight soon, and he could only imagine how much she had grown. 

_Knock knock_

"Héctor? Listen, amigo, I really wish you could stay, but... It's been five years and you've not been able to cross over. I can't let you stay here any more. We've got two new arrivals and they need a place to stay, I hope you understand..."

"It's alright, my friend. I'm used to roughing it, remember? I am a musician." Héctor assured with a gentle smile. "Any pointers on where I should go?" the man hesitated.

"Well, at the edge of the city, there's this group of people who have never had their photos put up, you might see if they've got room for you." 

"Gracias, amigo. See you around." Héctor said softly, grabbing the guitar he had in his room and making his way past the man who had given him shelter for the past five years. He wandered the streets aimlessly, not really ready to go to the edge of town yet. 

It was a quiet, Día de Muertos, might as well play something. He sat down on some stairs and took a deep breath. Over five years since he had played in public, how had it become so long? 

_♫ Remember me ~ though I have to say goodbye ~_

_♪ Remember me ~ Don't let it make you cry ~_

_♫ For even if I'm far away I hold you in my heart ~_

_♪ I sing a secret song for you each night we are apart ~_

_♫ Remember me ~ Though I have to travel far ~_

_♪ Remember me ~ Each time you hear a sad guitar ~_

_♫ Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be ~_

_♪ Until you're in my arms again, remember me ~_

"That was a beautiful rendition of De la Cruz's song. You must be a big fan. Your version is softer but I think I might like it better than the original." 

"Excuse me?" Héctor was speechless. He hadn't expected anyone to recognize his song, or say it wasn't his. Ernesto had been performing his songs? "There must be some mistake..."

"Don't be so modest. That was a really great performance. Don't give up on your dream, okay?" 

And with that, the lady who had commented on his song was gone. Héctor stood there in a daze, blinking in disbelief. Why would Ernesto take his songs? He didn't know what to think, although it was obvious that lady thought Ernesto had written his song.

* * *

It wasn't Día de los Muertos, but it wasn't a normal day, by any stretch of the imagination. Héctor had been thinking of ways to finally get past that gate for the next Día de Muertos; his fifteenth Día de Muertos, when he had bumped into someone unexpected.

"Mamá?"

"Héctor? Mijo! What are you doing here?" He was immediately enveloped in a tight hug. His mother had passed away. "I didn't expect to see you here so soon."

"Wait, wait, wait. You think I'm an arrival?"

"Are you not?"

"Mamá, I've been dead for fifteen years..."

"What? Oh, mijo... I'm so sorry. I had no idea." 

"It's okay... no one does... I'm not even sure Imelda knows..." 

"How can your own wife not know you're dead?"

"It's a long story..." 

"Aye.... Mijo, where are you living?"

"Honestly, the streets..."

"I told you being a musician wouldn't make you any money. You should've done something with your life, mijo." 

"Yes, mamá, I know." he took the nagging, just happy to have family again. 

"You must come and live with me, mijo. The streets are no place for my boy." He nodded in agreement, hugging his mother tightly.

* * *

Twenty one Día de Muertos had come and gone since the first. And with that, the newest arrival he was familiar with; Ernesto. Ernesto had been showered with recognition, appreciation, and admiration the moment he arrived in the Land of the Dead, and though Héctor wanted an explanation as to why Ernesto had performed his songs and not given him any credit for writing them, the man was impossible to get to.

His family had grown by two members, his grandmother and his father were now in the Land of the Dead as well, and he couldn't help but feel mostly content. He missed Imelda and Coco with every fiber of his being, but he had become used to staying home while his family went to the Land of the Living to see his grandfather. 

* * *

Happiness could only last so long, that he knew. It had been thirty-six years since he had died and his grandfather was exceptionally old. When he passed, a hard reality hit him. His parents hadn't been the most social of people, and since he was the last person who remembered his father, his mother, and his grandmother, all of them faded the instant he died. And his grandfather was not surrounded by many people, so it would only be a matter of time until he faded as well.

Héctor spent a few weeks with his grandfather and then as he had predicted, he was alone again. It was now time for him to resign himself to living at the edge of the city with the nearly forgotten. 

* * *

Héctor spent as much time away from the nearly forgotten encampment as he could. It had only been a couple years since he returned to being on his own, and often he would hang out at the market, playing music on his guitar. 

He was on his way home when he bumped into somebody he should've expected to see eventually, but the reality of her appearance meant that he had missed an entire lifetime with the love of his life.

"Imelda..." he was so happy to not be alone again that a goofy smile appeared on his face and he spun her around to her surprise. 

"H-Héctor?" she asked in disbelief, staring at him as if he was the last person she expected to see. Her expression quickly faded and was replaced with anger. "Get away from me!" she shouted, stomping on his foot.

He let out a little yelp of pain and Imelda's enraged expression faltered just for a moment. 

"I don't understand." he admitted, and her eyes narrowed.

"Just stay away from me." she said in a distant, firm, and unfamiliar tone before she turned on heel and left him standing there, bewildered and hurt. 

He went home and decided to talk to someone about it; Chicharon.  

"She hates me, Cheech, and I don't understand why."

"Maybe she just needs some time to cool down." Chicharon suggested, downing some tequila. "You said she loves music, right?"

"Sí?"

"Well, you should play for her. I bet it would make her happy."

It was decided. It took him about a week, but he ran into her again.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone." Imelda said firmly and Héctor chose to ignore her obvious destain in hopes of making her smile with his guitar like the old days. He held his guitar and smiled softly.

_♫ What color is the sky? ~_

_♪ Aye, mi amor, aye, mi amor ~_

_♫ You tell me that it's -_

"Héctor, you will take your guitar and you will leave me alone or you will find yourself one guitar shorter." Imelda growled and he swallowed nervously.

"What did I do, Imelda?" He didn't think her face could become any more disapproving, but it had.

"What did you do?! As if you don't know." she took her shoe and threw it in his general direction. He dodged and looked at her sadly. 

"Alright... I'll give you some time..." And once again, he left feeling completely defeated. 

* * *

The number of rejections Héctor had endured from Imelda over the years had been monumental. He had really tried everything to get her back, even giving up music altogether. He'd given his guitar to a young boy who seemed intrigued by it and he never let himself sing, no matter how much his heart yearned for a musical release.

It hadn't worked though. Imelda was no closer to forgiving him than she had been when they first met in the Land of the Dead. But he did understand why she hated him now. She had let it slip during one of her many, many, many rejections.

 _"You left me! You left Coco! You left us to fend for ourselves and you never came back!"_  

It had possibly been the most emotional rejection yet. Imelda was shedding tears and then she just ran off.

_"Please, just leave me alone. I don't like repeating myself."_

After that. Héctor had just accepted that he had lost her love, long, long ago, and promised himself not to pursue her anymore. Sixty years. Sixty years he'd been trying to get back to Imelda's side and now she wanted nothing to do with him at all.

Now his only family was Coco and he was determined more than ever to get to her, to see her again.

* * *

No matter what he tried, he couldn't get over the bridge. It had started a few months ago, the agonizing pain, unlike anything he'd felt before. He knew what it was, and it didn't happen frequently but it served as a warning that this was the last year he had, the last chance to see Coco before fading from existence. 

 _Ninety-seven years._  

It was hard to believe he had been alone, away from his daughter that long. And his daughter was dying. And forgetting him. A lifetime. He'd missed a lifetime with her, all her special moments in life; her first day of school, her last day of school, and her hundredth birthday, and every little treasured moment in between. That was possibly the most agonizing part about knowing he was fading. He knew nothing about Coco's life or how it had turned out without him. Was she happy? Did she still smile? She was losing her memory, that much he knew, but was she being well looked after? Was she alone or surrounded by family? It was hard to say, since he didn't know anything. Had she married? He couldn't begin to guess what sort of woman his beautiful baby girl had turned into.

His only chance when his disguise as Frita Carlo didn't work was to bolt for it. He was so close. He could feel the petals beneath his bones. Exhilaration, joy, and hope flooded his soul, but all of the emotions were quickly crushed when he started sinking into the volumes of petals, the further he got. 

If he couldn't walk across this stupid bridge, he'd swim. But the petals didn't bend to his will and the guards, terribly amused by his shenanigans, lifted him up and hauled him away from his only chance to see his daughter... or so he thought.

* * *

It had been unbelievable that Ernesto had a great, great grandson; mostly because Héctor had always been more interested in himself than ladies. And yet, a living boy had restored his only hope of seeing Coco again, though if he hadn't met Miguel, he was sure he would've spent the rest of the night, trying his damndest to get over that bridge. It wouldn't be the first time he had tried to catapult himself over the building... though the last attempt had resulted in him breaking several bones, something he had not been aware he could do until it happened. He had learned the hard way, bones that break in the spirit world, don't heal.

He had followed Miguel all over the Land of the Dead, trying to nurture his one last shot at seeing his daughter.

And it had all been for nothing.

* * *

_Ernesto poisoned me. I can't believe it. Why? Why did he take his life? Just for a few songs? Ernesto's selfishness made me miss all of Coco's life... All of Imelda's... I'm going to die in this sinkhole and Coco's going to be the last thing I think about._

* * *

It wasn't. Miguel had taken on new meaning in his life. Miguel was his great, great grandson and Héctor had never felt so lucky to have such an amazing, headstrong kid as his grandson. It had also meant that Coco had lived a full life, unlike her father. And it was just reassuring to know that she had been happy, even without him by her side.

Miguel had given him back the joy of music, and the love of family, and a sense of pride he hadn't felt since he learned that Ernesto had been playing his songs to get famous.

But the greatest gift of all that he had given him was Imelda talking to him, touching him, as if the ninety-seven years that had separated them to this point had only been a vicious nightmare, one that he was very willing to forget in favor of moving forward. But he was fading, and he was fading fast. The pain had become more and more frequent in the last few hours. He knew what it meant. He'd die before he ever got to see Coco. And while it hurt, he had accepted it, because Imelda and Miguel had accepted him and in his last night, he couldn't have asked for more.

Imelda was crying over him as he stared up at her with hooded eyes. 

"Mi amor... there's no need for tears... We may not meet again but- hnnn..." Héctor's tender speech was interrupted by a whine of pain. "But that doesn't mean that our love is gone... I'm sorry... that I'm leaving you and Coco alone again..." He glanced over at the family that had accumulated around his wife over the years. "Well, maybe not completely alone..."

"Héctor, stop making jokes, you dummy..." Imelda said through her tears, cupping his cheeks. "You can't leave me... not again..."

"I love you, Imelda... So incredibly much..."

"I love you too, Héctor..." 

He started to glow brightly and let out a weak whimper, ready to die. Imelda closed her eyes, not ready to see him go, but aware that she'd feel the absence of his weight the moment he faded away from her.

Only... when it did come, it didn't feel like he had turned to dust, but rather like he had just sat up. Imelda very slowly and nervously opened one eye, before both of her eyes flew open and she looked at an equally surprised Héctor before grabbing him and pulling him into a fierce hug.

"Ah... Imelda... you're crushing my ribs..." He muttered quietly, but he hugged her back firmly.

"What happened?" Imelda wondered out loud.

"I don't know... The pain just vanished..." Héctor said in amazement. "Miguel must have made Coco remember me..." 

It was the only explanation and he felt a huge amount of gratitude to the young boy who was four generations apart from him. 

* * *

When Coco passed, Héctor couldn't help the fear that flooded through him that he would too. But she must've passed down his stories because when Imelda held in hand in front of the new arrivals gate, he saw a surprisingly familiar pair of braids. They were pure white now, as was to be expected from a woman who had lived to be just over a hundred years old. He knew he shouldn't have, but he ran up and hugged her, swinging her around in excitement.

"Papá!"

"Coco!"

* * *

People have often wondered what binds a family together. It's speculated that it's love, or communication, but those are only building blocks to what a family can achieve together. What really unites us, is supporting each other, understanding one another, and forgiving the little things as well as the big. Never forget that family is important, and that friends will only follow you so far. 

Family is forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated.


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